


there will be rest, and sure stars shining

by dovahfiin



Series: the stars are not wanted now [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Bisexual Han Solo, Desertion, Force-Sensitive Jyn Erso, Fugitives, Jynnic Fandom Challenge, Requited Love, Treason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovahfiin/pseuds/dovahfiin
Summary: Orson and Jyn attempt to flee the long arm of the Empire, and the tendrils of their consciousness trying to beckon them to stay.





	1. over the rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two refugees seek help in unlikely places.

His uniform is no longer white. The cape is off. He's swearing and jerking a hydrospanner back and forth in the crevice of the hyperdrive's service compartment; maybe he can patch it up, but as time passes and Jyn watches him while performing her own repairs, it becomes obvious that they need a ship.

She takes a cursory glance at the holomap and sucks in a breath when she realizes - they're in the Outer Rim.

"We've been drifting for a while on aft thrusters, but we need distance from Imperial-occupied planets. Tatooine is clandestine enough that we could barter for a new ship with a functioning hyperdrive."

Krennic wipes his brow withe the back of his hand. "Worth a try. The Empire hasn't taken much of an interest in entanglements with crime lords, which is what Tatooine is ruled by."

"Then it's decided."

It takes three hours and some advanced piloting, but they land on the edge of the Jundland Wastes. Using Mos Eisley would have brought quite a bit of unwanted attention; Jyn suddenly remembers landing on Jedha with Cassian and keeping a 'low profile' - which ended in the deaths of several Stormtroopers.

After changing into basic black flight suits, it takes them another two hours and most of their water rations to sustain a walk into Mos Eisley; but when they finally arrive, covered in sweat and exhausted, they can't bring themselves to the task of finding a ship. Instead, they purchase a room with unmarked credits and collapse.

Krennic stares at her while she's curled up in the small bed, her brown eyes fatigued. She's processing, she's in shock, and she reaches out and cups Orson's chin in one shaking hand. He closes his eyes and lets the physical contact, their first in weeks, months, take shape in his mind.

"Tarkin. . ." he starts to tell her that he had been given a choice, that he had chosen her, but she silences his roiling thoughts with a surprisingly strong kiss. He rolls his tongue against her teeth and sighs against her lips, wrapping his legs around her and flipping them both over on the bed.

They silently beg for purchase while he makes himself hard - his books are long gone, shelved in the villa to which he will never return - but he finds that his body craves Jyn. He needs all of her now, and she opens to him without hesitation. He eases himself into her and sighs when his entrance is tight and hot and burning.

When they're both impossibly spent and their breathing has returned to normal, Orson shoots up from the bed and climbs into the small fresher unit. Jyn gets up and follows him, happily climbing into the stall when he beckons her forward.

They wash each other, taking turns rubbing the pumice and spicy soap into their flush skin. They stay until the water is cold, and Orson places gentle but insistent kisses on her shoulders.

The next morning, they have to move but they're resolute in their next steps.

Krennic buys a mechanically questionable SoroSub speeder from a spice-addled Dug, who tells them that he quells his addiction at Jabba's palace - a notorious Hutt with whom the Empire enjoys a tepid and occasionally lucrative relationship. They pile into the speeder and, with the directions given to them, head in the direction of the Dune Sea.

It isn't easy gaining entry to the heavily-fortified palace, but Krennic uses his military clout and he and Jyn are escorted into the bowels of the place by a twi-lek named Bib, whose lekku nervously twitched the closer they came to wherever Jabba resided.

"Greetings, Mighty Jabba. I am Orson, and this is my prisoner Liana. I am on a covert mission with the Empire, so time and discretion are necessary. I seek the use of a ship."

The Hutt regards him shrewdly before emitting a guttural, grotesque laugh.

_"I have no ship Imperial, but I have something which could benefit both of us."_

"Very well. I am open to any compromise you deem necessary."

_"In my employ there is a smuggler whose debt owed to me has reached the thousands. He has no love for the Empire, but aiding you would clear the debt. He will give you and your prisoner discrete passage to wherever you are going."_

Jyn watches as Orson considers the offer. Involving anyone else in their desertion could increase their chances of being discovered, but here in the Outer Rim they were all equal fugitives. No one gained anything by shining a light on the underbelly of society.

"I accept, your Excellency. Where may I find this smuggler?"

Jabba laughs again. _"He is here."_ He gestures for Bib to go find the erstwhile smuggler, and the pair of deserters wait in an uncomfortable silence before a scruffy man in his early 30s with tousled chestnut brown hair saunters up to stand next to them. He winks at Jyn and nods soberly to Orson. "I guess I'm your pilot."

"Indeed."

_"Of course, I request a modest fee - a retainer, if you will. Han is my best runner, troublesome though he may be, and going without his services will be a hardship."_

"Doubtless you think 10,000 credits is sufficient?"

_"Twenty."_

"Fifteen, plus two if we get there without incident."

Jabba considers this briefly. _"Very well. Bring my boy back alive."_

Orson offers a shallow bow and turns crisply on his heel, the movement causing his chest to heave as he remembers that this is the way he left Tarkin's office on Coruscant. The last time he saw him.

The chestnut-haired man falls in step behind him. "I've got a copilot; a wookie. He's not keen on new people, especially not Imps, but I'll let him know who's coming. I don't want any trouble; as Jabba said, I'm in enough of that as-is."

"This will be the most seamless contract you ever get. And as long as you're confessing your nature, we may as well tell you that we're defectors."

Han cocks an eyebrow. "What a coincidence. So was I not so long ago."

"So we understand each other."

"We do. I have no love for the Empire. They make it hard for a guy like me to earn a living."

They fall into a comfortable silence. When they approach the entrance of the palace, Han stops walking. "Docking bay 94, Mos Eisley Spaceport. That's where my ship will be. Meet there tomorrow at 0900 sharp; don't be late."

Jyn nods. "We won't be."

They part ways in the dunes, Han taking a speeder toward Mos Eisley and Orson staring after him seemingly deep in thought.

"Well?"

"We can't risk showing up in Mos Eisley until it's time to leave. There's - there's someone we can go to. He's kind of out there" Orson gestures with his hand "but he has a connection to the Empire that - kriff. He trained someone who is now an impossibly high-ranking official in the Empire."

Jyn's mind races. She's heard bits and pieces of how the Empire came to be, but history was never her strong suit.

They board the speeder and Krennic pilots fearlessly and quickly out to the edge of the wastes, to an old homestead that looks utterly dilapidated - but Jyn feels the thrum of life within it in a powerful way she can't name.

"Stay here. I have to talk to him alone; I'll motion for you when the time comes."

Jyn stays behind and watches him cautiously approach the adobe hut, rapping on the door purposefully. An older man enters, perhaps not quite as old as Tarkin but somewhere between he and Orson. His beard is flecked with a liberal smattering of white hair, but she can tell that he was once a strawberry blonde. His features are set and weathered; he looks as though he could be older than his years, but he offers a wan smile when Orson begins to speak. Jyn can't hear them, but she can tell that the older man, clad in a brown robe with a utility belt secured over a beige rough-spun tunic, is eager to hear what he has to say.

Orson turns and waves Jyn on, signaling that it's all right. She steps out of the speeder and approaches the home as the two men file inside.

"Please, be seated. Would either of you care for refreshment?"

Jyn nods, and Orson follows suit. The man disappears behind a stonewashed wall and brings a tray of pickled vegetables, a small bowl of rice, and some fresh water - a rather commendable show of hospitality in the desolate wastes of Tatooine.

"Thank you, Ben. I know this must be a shock."

"I heard about what happened at Jedha and knew that the coils of the great serpent that is the Empire were beginning to constrict ever tighter. I admit I had not foreseen this."

Orson takes a sip of water. "I had. I could have stopped it."

The man called Ben looks down at his folded hands in his lap. "I said the same thing all of eighteen years ago. There is no stopping the darkness that is to come."

"That's a load of shit."

Jyn had been silent, but suddenly the wellspring of emotion from the last few days had boiled over. "That's shit, and if you are who I think you are, you of all people should know better."

Ben didn't move. He looked at Jyn with the measured discipline of a Jedi, but she could feel within him a distinct pulse of sadness. It was old grief, older than the sands surrounding them, and he would not, could not let it go.

"You do not understand the true power of the Empire; what it's driven by."

Jyn took a breath. "I know enough. Kyber was used by the Jedi to power their lightsabers. Jedha was destroyed, and with it the last remnants of the Jedi Order. That can't be a coincidence."

"Your insight serves you well. The real test will be how you decide to act on it."

Krennic swallows hard. "We defected yesterday. The weapon was fired on Scarif; as far as the Empire is concerned, everyone died."

"So you are new refugees. Doubtless the belief that there were no survivors will buy you time."

"We're using the time we have to our advantage. We need to get as far away as possible, so we've hired a pilot."

"Where will you go?"

Krennic kicks one boot against the other. "I am unsure."

Ben looks at Krennic, disgust and frustration chasing themselves across his otherwise placid features. He finally settles on what Jyn decides is pity. "You perhaps waited too long for this moment, but there may be alternative courses which would be just as effective."

"We were able to transmit the plans, or at least I think we were, on Scarif. I need confirmation that they made it into the hands of the Rebellion."

Ben nods soberly. "I have a contact close to the Rebel Alliance. I cannot solicit him because it would compromise my identity and location."

Krennic eyes him like a hungry taag cat. "I'm not a messenger."

The old man's eyes smile but his mouth remains a thin line. "That's not exactly what I was getting at. Let me go with you to Alderaan. We can secure the support of my friend there."

Jyn and Orson nod in agreement. Ben rises silently and begins clearing the food away. For what feels like the first time in days, Jyn finally takes a deep breath and slowly exhales.

"We need to be at the Mos Eisley Spaceport, docking bay 94, at 0900 standard. I have a speeder that can take us into town."

Ben smiles, a sad upturn of his thin lips. Jyn locks eyes with him for a moment, but Orson doesn't notice; he's already up and taking stock of their gear.

When the table is cleared and the food stored, the suns have already begun to set. Ben is standing out a fair distance from the hut, perfectly still and staring out across the vast expanse of the Jundland Wastes. Jyn leaves Orson to his self-appointed chore and walks to join Ben.

"How did you come to be here?"

He blinks rapidly. "I am in exile, though not without regret."

"We all shoulder some of that. Someone I lost on Scarif -" her voice fades with emotion as she tries to conjure the words, "he taught me that we've all been in the fight in our own way. Whatever you're escaping out here - neither Krennic nor myself can pass judgment on you for that. We're all rebels."

Ben's eyes are not dry, but he shows no sign of struggling with emotion. He is perfectly serene and centered; Jyn can feel a familiar sensation of oneness, as if his mind is toiling over each course of action but his soul is entirely at peace.

"You're a Jedi, aren't you?"

The suns set and they don't walk back toward the hut until Ben shifts his weight and whispers, "Once."


	2. serene forgetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Jyn discuss the Jedi.

"I uh, I didn't tell you my name yesterday."

"Jabba told me who you are."

"Yeah, but we weren't properly _introduced_."

Orson pierced him with a look that could have melted durasteel. "My wife doesn't need to be introduced. She needs a pilot. We need a pilot. That's it."

"Well, the old man wasn't part of the deal."

"He is critical toward the completion of this mission. Don't you have a debt you're eager to clear up, anyway?"

Han raises his hands in supplication, a rogueish smile creeping across his face. "Fine, fine. Chewie's just clearing up some maintenance issues and then we'll be on our way."

Orson and Ben board what Han said is known as the _Millennium Falcon_ while Jyn hangs back.

"I'm Liana, by the way."

Han rakes his eyes over hers for a moment, then takes her hand and plants a purposeful kiss on her knuckles. His lips are surprisingly soft. "A pleasure. Tell your husband he has nothing to worry about; I don't swing your way." He winks and ambles off to help his co-pilot. "We leave in ten minutes" he calls over his shoulder.

By the time Jyn rejoins Ben and Orson in the main bay, they are already deeply ensconced in a discussion regarding how to find Ben's contact. Orson glances briefly at her, but his eyes don't betray any emotion. She sits and listens to them discuss points of entry and how they can best conceal their identities. She's taken aback at how Orson has changed; he is no longer Imperial in the way he speaks to others. He is accommodating, calm, but still assertive. He is no longer a tyrant. He has shed the last vestiges of the Empire and, for the first time, Jyn sees that he is truly free.

 _My husband_. Her mind turns that on its axis for a moment. She hasn't considered him as such before now, but his protective posturing and their gentle lovemaking during their brief stay at the inn made her wonder if he wasn't starting to show some kind of attachment as well.

Her ruminations occupy her until they have safely left the spaceport. Ben calls her name three times before Orson has to nudge her.

"My friend is a senator. I served him during the Clone Wars and he has remained loyal to the Republic. I have contacted him using an encrypted channel on this ship and he has agreed to see us." For a brief moment, Jyn gets the impression he has something else to add. He parts his lips, but then closes them rapidly. Orson doesn't see it, but Jyn does.

"And?"

"And you will be taken as political prisoners. At least, until my contact is confident that you will willingly give whatever information the plans themselves do not provide. It was the best I could do to prove your intentions prior to our arrival." He looked at Orson, whose features were the perfect picture of control, before adding "Senator Organa will extend political asylum to you both, of course."

Jyn isn't thrilled and Orson obviously isn't either, but they aren't exactly in a position to bargain. Krennic excuses himself to catch a few hours of sleep, and Ben is left appraising Jyn in a way which surprisingly doesn't make her uncomfortable.

"I sense in you the seeds of a greater knowledge of the world around you. Were it a different time, I would say that you possess the ability to hone that skill for a higher purpose."

Of course he was pontificating about the Jedi. Jyn had heard many stories of the great peacekeeper warriors from her mother, who idolized the galaxy's one-time enforcers of justice and compassion. Watching those towering old ruins crumble at Jedha had filled her with a sadness she couldn't name at the time, but Ben was pulling that fragile grief from her like gossamer threads. She had to tell him what she felt around her, but she could not find the words.

"You said that you were a Jedi once. What made you stop?"

"My pupil was seduced to the Dark Side. It is a multifaceted and storied tale, but in the end he pledged himself to the Sith because the Order failed him. _I_ failed him." 

"It sounds like he made his own choice. You can't be held responsible for that."

Ben shrugs, his narrow shoulders slumping. "He required guidance I failed to provide. It wouldn't be until years after his fall that I began to see how flawed the Jedi Order's tenets can be, that they created so many Sith."

"So much for personal responsibility."

Ben's mouth sagged. "The Dark Side is more powerful than good sense or the perception of responsibility. It transcends the trappings of what we know is right or wrong; its appeal lies in the power it gives a person over their own lives. It gave my apprentice a way to move beyond his fear of abandonment and his need to protect those he loved. It is for love then that many fall to it willingly."

"Could he turn back?"

"Those who find fulfillment in the Dark Side rarely return, but I suppose it is possible were his impetus for turning just as powerful."

Something shifts in the space between them. Ben glances up, his eyes suddenly focused and crystalline. "He has a son and a daughter, though he does not know it. He was told that his children died during their birth along with their mother. There is hope still, though it is slight."

Jyn looked down at her dusty black boots. "Rebellions are built on hope."

Ben offers a half smile and silently excuses himself, likely to rest just as Orson is doing. Jyn is left alone with her thoughts and grand imaginings of what proud Jedi once lived in an era long since passed.


	3. holy and low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarkin reports to the Emperor.

It is an impossibly late hour when Grand Moff Tarkin arrives on Coruscant. He is unsure whether or not his transmission made it to the Palace in time to secure an audience, but he does not believe in standing on ceremony with the Emperor. Over the years, he has found that it is preferable to temper his ostentatious methods (such as insisting on entry to the Imperial Palace at 0200) with projecting an earnest desire to be of service; including taking responsibility for yet another disaster.

This wasn't Jedha, and perhaps Palpatine recognized that. The truth was that the Death Star had to be unveiled if it could be used for its true purpose, and until then every time its use was employed would be branded a disaster.

To his shock, the red guard didn't even question him as he walked down the hallowed halls of the Palace. He hadn't even begun to get close to the bowels of the Palace before he could make out the bent, cloaked form of the Emperor, his back turned to him, waiting at the other end of the hallway leading into the Imperial Throne Room.

That ancient voice called out to him, a sadistic and somehow melancholy chant "Grand Moff, the hour is late. I expected that you would be here to give yet another report on what has become quite an impossible disaster to explain to the Senate - but not under cover of darkness. It seems so _beneath you_."

"My only wish is to contain the matter before it becomes unmanageable."

The Emperor turns to the approaching Moff. His glowing eyes are narrowed, his lips set in an impossibly thin line. "An entire outpost decimated by a group of rebel insurgents, and you have the audacity to suggest that this situation is not already unmanageable?"

"My Lord -"

" _Silence_."

Tarkin considers his position. If the Emperor discovers his true reason for hesitating at Scarif, he would be given a court martial and a painful death befitting any other traitor. He takes a breath, shields his thoughts as best he can, and waits for Palpatine to continue.

"I know that the rebels have the Death Star plans. Lord Vader failed in his attempt to contain that disaster, but luckily communications were intercepted which have lead the fleet to Alderaan. I am sending you there next; that will serve as your first demonstration of the Death Star's true firepower."

"So you wish to completely eradicate the planet."

"Indeed. It is our turn to show the rebels that we will utilize fear to keep them aligned with our purpose."

"Yes, your Excellency."

"And I expect immediate and unwavering obedience, Wilhuff. Vader told me that you experienced some kind of _crisis_ before firing on Scarif."

"I will not happen again."

"See that it doesn't. I am standing on a precipice whose dropoff leads to regretting my decision to promote you. Do not disappoint me again."

Once more, the Emperor leaves Tarkin to his ruminations. Suddenly, the vaulted ceilings and impossibly wide corridors of the Palace shrink to constrict his failing constitution. When he steps out into first dawn, he ducks behind a bulkhead and wretches.

He is startled by a revelation: he is not so powerful a man as to outrun the prodding of his conscience, and he can feel it sitting like a rock in the middle of his chest. He cannot escape it, he can't destroy it with a concentrated beam of ion. He empties the contents of his stomach and emerges from his hiding place looking for all the world like he was not a man in crisis.


	4. out of a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two concurrent destinies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completed and re-posted. Sorry this took so long. I return to my regularly scheduled updates, now.

Tarkin returned to the Death Star without much fanfare, but he could feel their judgmental appraisals in the rhythm of the way they spoke to him. When he gave the order to set course for Alderaan, his voice a steady and unemotional timbre of dark grays and jet black, he felt them respond to his authority with devotion sandwich in that judgment. It was a hindrance he was willing to work with.

Darth Vader's transmission confirmed that there was a Rebel base of operations located on Yavin 4, but as it happened the Corellian Corvette which had been carrying Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan had been intercepted during Tarkin's absence. She was now being held as a prisoner on the Death Star, though the Moff hadn't been able to interrogate her as yet. Regardless, the best way to incite her to perhaps reveal the location of the base of her own volition was to use her homeworld as bait.

He had no intention, from the beginning, of sparing Alderaan even if she were to divulge the location of the base. There was no doubt; the Death Star would be a known entity, and Alderaan would be its first public target. Its eradication would also mean the end of Bail Organa, a major figurehead of the Rebellion, and the monarchy which partially financially sustained it. Tarkin felt alive with anticipation; this was the moment for which he had waited for two decades.

"Governor, we are emerging from lightspeed."

"Summon Princess Leia; I wish for her to observe the power of the Death Star firsthand."

The Princess of Alderaan is cloaked in white, her hair elaborately styled in what Tarkin would consider a fashion the late Padme Amidala would have favored. Her eyes are full of fire and she does not comply with the orders of the stormtroopers who have to mandhandle her into the center of the bridge. Tarkin finds the display vaguely attractive.

"Governor Tarkin; I should have recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board." Her Basic is brilliantly executed - he knows that it not her preferred tongue, but it is the galactic standard and that she knows her place is a surprising counterpoint to how she jerks out from under the heavy hands of the detail in charge of bringing her to the bridge.

"Charming to the last", Tarkin replies lazily. He runs the curled index finger of his right hand along the smooth skin of her chin and she moves her head slightly to evade it, but contact (and his point) is made. Leia looks beyond Tarkin and sees the familiar edifice of her planet, her eyes widening in horror.

"No! Alderaan is a peaceful planet, you can't. . ."

"Do you have another target, a military target? Then name the system. I grow tired of asking this so it will be the last time: Where is the rebel base?"

Leia's eyes fall. She stops struggling and falls into the chest of Darth Vader, who has mysteriously and somehow silently joined them on the bridge. She whirls around and, seeing no other way out, lowers her gaze even further before muttering "Dantooine. They're on Dantooine."

"I told you she could be reasonable. You may fire when ready."

The Princess howls, like any wild animal he had ever slayed on the Carrion, and in moments Alderaan was destroyed. Completely. The sight of it took Tarkin's breath away; the bridge was silent once again.

There was no trace that a planet had ever occupied those coordinates, and even Tarkin found himself amazed at the efficiency and power of the weapon. His eyes narrowed involuntarily when he realized that his vision had been realized by the brilliance of _Orson Krennic_.

Orson.

"You have no idea how difficult I found it, signing the order to terminate your life. Thank you for participating in this demonstration, your Highness. Take her away."

For someone of royal lineage, the princess was more foul-mouthed than most TIE pilots. Tarkin chuckled as the stormtroopers lead her away, all manner of curses in Basic and Alderaani flooding the otherwise silent bridge as she was lead to her death.

Darth Vader has been silent this entire time, which the Moff finds odd, until he too speaks up. "I told you that she would never consciously betray the Rebellion." Tarkin wondered if the vocoder in his helmet could betray emotion. The statement sounded maudlin, as though Vader were truly upset over that assertion.

"Terminate her. Immediately."

Vader is gone in a billow of a black cape, his gait a familiar but altered version of the man inside the suit. Tarkin sends a transmission to the Emperor, his report radically shorter than any he had given previously. He can only bring himself to three words.

_"It is finished."_

****

* * *

"Whaddaya mean there's nothing there?" Han Solo grinds out the words, gesturing wildly at the viewport. Jyn is on her feet and refusing to believe what's right in front of her: Alderaan is _gone_. In its place is what Jyn believes is Alderaan's moon.

Ben is oddly quiet. Orson looks at the viewport, but there is a calm behind his blue eyes that Jyn doesn't understand. He scans the space in front of them while Han widens the search criteria for the scan of the surrounding area. "There's its moon", he says sullenly. "But where in the hells is the planet?"

"That's no moon."

As they cautiously creep forward, two TIE Fighters loom in the distance, their uncanny engines whining even from several clicks away. Han sits back against the pilot's chair, letting go of the controls.

"They've locked a tractor beam on us." Han's voice is smooth as shimmersilk. "I've been boarded several times. I made some modifications a while ago and hollowed out some compartments below the deck to store illegal cargo. Evades scanners, even Imp ones. We could hide there and they'll probably rule this a derelict ship if they don't discover us."

Jyn braced herself, now standing, on the back of the co-pilot's chair. "And if they do?"

He doesn't answer. There is no answer to give, and Jyn knows this. Orson, Ben, and Krennic all begin to file into the corridor Han indicates as being the one with the cargo holds under the floorboards. They wait while the smuggler kills whatever power is left, making the _Falcon_ appear adrift.

****

* * *

Ben is dead. Krennic can't get Jyn to tell him what happened, but she's sitting in the cockpit in the standard-issue underclothes of a stormtrooper whose armor she stole after cracking his neck when they were boarded. It had been an impulsive decision to drag the Princess, Leia he's told, with them - but when he hears that she intercepted and knows the location of the plans, he wants to kiss Jyn and pump Han's hand in euphoric gratitude.

Leia looks at Jyn incredulously. " _You_ were on _Rogue One_? I thought everyone in that detail had died."

Jyn's still sweating, pulling off scuffed white armor and letting it fall to the floor in a heap. "Orson and I were the only two who survived the attack. It's sheer luck we're alive."

Ben was not there to protest that the Force is what had willed their survival, but Jyn felt him still, a sad and pulsating insistence that this hadn't been an accident.

Han is deep in thought as Leia tells them about the droids she sent in an escape pod down to Tatooine. He's none too pleased at the prospect of going back, but Jyn can't ignore the niggling thought that the trail to the plans will lead them to something greater still.

_Trust your instincts, Jyn Erso. There is another. Indeed, Rebellions are built on hope._

Her mind echoes with the familiar timbre of Ben's voice. She reaches out to steady herself on Orson's shoulder, who looks at her as though she's some fragile thing. He doesn't ask what's wrong, chalks it up to the events of the last several hours.

"Go get some rest. I'll let you know when we've reached Tatooine."

She shuffles into the sparse living quarters, hurls herself onto the impossibly firm sleeping bay, and dreams about a moisture farm and a boy whose eyes burn familiarly.


	5. myriads with beating hearts of fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is like his father; he is the Jedi.  
> She is like her mother; she will defy an Empire.  
> He is the ocean; he will roil and rage in his mystery.

Orson and Jyn make love in a longhouse designated as guest space for the rare times which Owen Lars abides visitors. When Krennic tells him about Ben, the gruff old man's face falls in a familiar grief, though there is an edge in his voice when he speaks again. Jyn is given the impression that Ben's presence on Tatooine was a great point of contention for the Lars patriarch, whose protective hold on Luke is so stifling as to be tangible.

When they come together corporeally, finally, she sighs against him and the pangs of pleasure send her over the edge too fast. Orson finishes while she is shuddering through the too-sensitive glides against an engorged clit, but he's as gentle as he can be. She's shocked and disgusted when Ben comes to her again in that moment.

_Jyn Erso, you must protect Luke._

He doesn't stay long. Perhaps he can't control when he comes to her mind; she gets the feeling he was embarrassed, but that the message itself was more important. She covers her breasts with the thin blanket Beru had given them to share. It was too hot for anything thicker.

He's a child, and somehow they're close in age but he's moisture-licking farmhand and why should she protect him?

Orson sees something pass over her eyes after he comes, shuddering himself and holding her so close she can feel his collarbone through the flesh of her cheek.

"Ben keeps talking to me."

"What?

"I can't explain it. I hear his voice. He's telling me to watch over Luke; to protect him."

Krennic is immediately silent, which is not what she was expecting. She wanted him to tell her how her mind was processing shock, how she was bereaved.

"Your mother", he says on a whisper. Jyn's eyes snap open.

"What about her?" Her voice is flat. She squeezes her eyes shut again, willing the memory and the scent of lavender and mud away.

"She survived the Purge. Galen didn't realize how his service would impact her ability to keep you both safe."

The Force, Chirrut had once told her, is a tradition of legacy. It is handed down in a family and its signature is different in everyone, though it is all part of the Force in a more general sense. Her mother literally lived on in her through her Force signature, and it is what connected her to Ben.

Krennic rolls over with his back turned to Jyn. "General Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader are the same person. There are perhaps a handful of people who know this. After seeing Luke today, there is little doubt in my mind who he is and why he must be kept safe."

_You were right, Jyn. Trust in the Force._

Jyn wakes in the middle of a sandstorm the next morning, howling winds ripping through the plains and beating against the longhouse. Krennic is gone, left hours ago before the worst of it came. He leaves a note in his wake, handwritten so his point will be made:

**Went to Ben's homestead. Talk to Luke. Convince him to come with us.**

By the time she dresses and walks down the dusty stairs to the heart of the living quarters of the farm, Luke is swearing and cleaning out a chirping blue R2 unit.

"New friend?"

"Yeah, he'd be much more friendly if this restraining bolt would come off."

One well-timed jerk saw the bolt flung across the expanse of the maintenance room and a hologram began to play. It was Princess Leia in obvious distress. Jyn watched transfixed as she relayed one simple message:

"Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

Luke blew his sandy blonde bangs away from his eyes. "Who is she? Play back the recording, R2!" The droid chortled.

"The princess of Alderaan, now an empty void in space. We rescued her from Imperial captivity. She's with our pilot in Mos Eisley, in hiding."

"You rescued a princess? Kenobi - I know that name. Crazy old man, uncle Owen's always going on about -"

"Ben, yes. We - he was with us, we - he's gone. Dead."

She can sense the confusion in him, though her perception of his emotional turmoil is slow to unfurl. "I don't know why we're here, but - there's something you should know. It doesn't make sense to me, and I haven't put the pieces together myself. I can hear Ben. I can hear him because I have the Force, too."

Luke's eyes are as wide as the moons over Tatooine. "You know of the Jedi? My father was a pilot in the Clone Wars. I wonder if he knew any."

Something deep inside of Jyn breaks when she hears the resignation and grief in Luke. She debates for a brief moment before throwing caution and perhaps good sense into the void of stars above their heads.

"Your father was a Jedi. He was a hero, Luke."

Jyn sucks in a quick breath before continuing. "Ben said that your father died, and -" she couldn't finish that statement. Not with the way those blue eyes turned away from hers and glistening with something she recognized after having lost her own father. She put one timid hand on his shoulder - surprisingly muscular underneath the lightspun tunic of a farmer - and squeezed reassuringly. "I lost my father to the Empire. Like you, I hid on a farm until I couldn't ignore it anymore. I understand the need to fight back. I know why you don't want to stay here, and I don't blame you."

He locked eyes with Jyn again, finding some kind of strength that surprised her. "Take me with you."

Jyn nods. "I was hoping you would say that."

They take the newly oil-bathed droids up onto the surface where Luke leads them to the landspeeder he uses to gallivant around Anchorhead with his friends. "We need to get to Mos Eisley. Han and Leia are hiding in an inn there, but we need to keep a low profile." Luke nimbly jumps over and into the pilot's seat.

"I'll handle the flying if you can manage to keep us unnoticed." Jyn's silence is all the agreement he needs. Once the droids are covered in a burlap blanket meant to shield the generators from sandstorms, they head out over the dunes. The wind swallows what Jyn wants to tell him; the few things that Ben had the time to impart upon her before his demise on the Death Star. She prefers Luke's innocence, his wistful smile as he ably pilots the speeder to the small city. He doesn't need to know the terror on its way, and he doesn't need to know the sins that are not his own for which he is held to account regardless. Jyn only recognizes that she's weeping when the salt stings where the sand has rubbed her skin red.

****

* * *

Krennic returns from that old hut out in the desert, two light sabers and some salvageable food provisions tucked away in the bags astride his swoop bike. He can smell the familiar tang of burning flesh and blaster bolts long before he sees the plumes of smoke rising from the lower levels of the farm. Left in the entrance of the homestead are two completely immolated people - and his intuition tells him that they are not Luke and Jyn, since the speeder is gone and there is no sign of the interpreter droid nor the R2 unit Owen had haggled for earlier that morning.

It's a typical Imperial calling card: comply, or you will be destroyed. Apparently, the Lars' chose the latter. He fishes his comm out of his pocket to find out where exactly his wife and the Skywalker boy were when it lit up with her communications signature.

"We went to Mos Eisley. We're with Han and Leia now. Where are you? What's happened?"

"The farm, Jyn. They know about the droids. Beru and Owen are both dead. We need to leave, Jyn. NOW."

He cuts the transmission before she can protest, mounting the swoop again and racing off recklessly through the darkening desert, chasing the suns as their light across the dunes dimmed and the only way he could navigate the terrain was by avoiding the dark shadows of impossibly high mounds of sand as far as he could stretch his sight.

****

* * *

"Sir, should we evacuate?"

Tarkin is incensed at the insubordination, waving the deck officer away with a flick of his wrist. "Now? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances."

He feels something then. Maybe it's the Force, maybe it's something as primal as the same animal instinct he learned to stay ahead of on the Carrion.

The truth of it is lost to space as soon as the arrogance leaves his lips.

****

* * *

Jyn feels it, heavy in her stomach but light in her heart. Ben curls up inside of her mind as he is wont to do, and says _He did it_.

Orson chooses that exact moment to regard her from the veranda, the familiar sound of waves eternally pushing for purchase against the base of the villa. "What is it?"

"The Death Star. Luke destroyed it. It's over."

Jyn isn't upset when Orson silently marks his spot in the tome he's reading. She anticipates that he'll leave, but he averts his unsteady gaze out across the ocean. She doesn't recall seeing _this_ , although everything in her resonates with the knowledge that he is mourning a loss greater than whatever victory the Rebellion had gained.

"He did say that he would destroy me with my own machine."

She doesn't challenge it. She knows who and what her husband is and always will be. He's a spy, a pretender now just as she is. Together they will dismantle the Empire from the inside out; but there will be ghosts in those halls, and there will be the kinds of battles they will fight not on warships or on solid ground but with weapons wielded by their guilt.

She cradles his head in her lap, and she pretends not to hear when he says that it should have been him.


End file.
